Artemis Fowl: The Second Chance
by venuswingsloved
Summary: Artemis Fowl, heir to the Fowl Empire was supposed to be dead. After cloning himself and returning to his body, the Fowl heir finds his second chance at life a major adjustment. As he gets increasingly interwoven into the deep, complex consequences of Bruin Fadda's magic, he realizes he doesn't just have a second chance at life, but someone else very important to him.


Sweat dripped down his face, he sent tiny droplets flying, catching the evening sun as he kept a steady rhythm against the punching bag.

_Left, left, right, upper cut, left._

"Your aim is getting better," a deep bass boomed from behind him.

Artemis delivered the last series of punches to the bag before turning around to face his bodyguard, who was holding out a bottle of Irish spring water. "I require more force behind my fists," he said after drinking half of the bottle. "But that will only come with the buildup of muscle and motor control."

Butler nodded fondly. Since Artemis managed the extraordinary feat of coming back from the dead, he seemed to be more inclined to actual physical coordination. Artemis himself postulated that it was his new body's way of compensating for the years of physical life it did not actually live. Either way, he was more graceful than he used to be, and Butler's heart melted to see his young charge finally taking an interest in the physical arts.

Artemis heard his bodyguard's footsteps leaving the dojo, returning the water bottle to the fridge that had an illegally procured fairy purifier built into it. But more physical competence was not the only thing changed about the Fowl heir. When he first stepped into the manor, Butler and Holly supporting him on Foaly's back, his mother had dropped a crystal vase and screamed. The rest of his family had come running, Beckett almost dismantling his father's advanced biotech leg as they tumbled down the stairs together, and they all froze.

Oh god, Foaly inwardly groaned. I knew I should have brought camfoil. His dratted brothers think I'm a pony.

Holly tensed, unsure of how Artemis's family would react at seeing a bunch of mythological creatures carrying in their dead son.

"Artemis, is that you?" Angeline Fowl's cracked whisper carried across the dead silence.

Though his mind was still swirling with cloudy shapes and thoughts, he knew that this was his mother. "Yes, Mother, it's me."

And suddenly, Artemis found himself in the middle of the biggest embrace of his life, his nerves and neurons tingling and exploding with memories. He hugged Beckett and Myles to him, and his mother collapsed in his arms while his father gathered all of them close. The house pealed with laughter, and even some of the dour Fowl portraits managed to look happier.

Holly couldn't help but wipe away a tear at the joy racing through the house, and even Butler's stony eyes held the threat of tears in them.

Artemis let the hot water run over his head. He felt bad about letting such a precious commodity go to waste, but he just needed the time to think. Though everyone in the family was deliriously happy to have him back, Artemis couldn't shake the feeling that he just wasn't quite right. It was as if his body was a suit that he couldn't quite fit into the corners of. There was always a certain shock in his family's eyes: _you were dead. You were supposed to be dead. Is that really you?_

I guess if you had your dead son show up at your door, a tiny bit of you would be disbelieving too, he observed wryly.

Before Foaly and Holly had left, Foaly slipped him a small bundle with a wink. Artemis took it, nonplussed. To be entirely honest, he did not remember everything about Foaly or even Holly, but he knew that they were just as important to him as he was to them. When he finally got a spare moment alone, he opened the package. A small set of purple pills rolled into his palm, along with a note from Foaly:

_Mud Boy. I realize that you probably won't remember any of this, so I'm going to do you a favor for the first time in your—I mean, this life and explain this to you. This is a secret third thing you asked me to make, along with the chrysalis. They're small, organic compounds that are meant to enhance the limbic system—especially your memories. Take one at night, and make sure you can get a good night's rest. You hypothesized that this would accelerate the subconscious' work that pieces together and solidifies your memories. However, as a warning, this is a highly risky drug, mostly because I haven't gotten rats to talk yet. Or come back from the dead. So, I would say the side effects would be creating an entirely new set of memories purely based on dreams, which could look like schizophrenia. But don't worry, I may have to agree with your hypothesis on this one. _

Without hesitation, Artemis swallowed a pill that night. Immediately he fell into a deep sleep, one without dreams.

Waking up was like emerging from a 2-D world into a 3-D one. So many layers of memories and subtle connotations of each object in the house! For a moment, Artemis's brain projected small scars on his hands, no doubt a subconscious memory of what his previous body had endured. He remembered Holly, Foaly, Mulch and Commander Root. He _remembered _them, though not specifics. His memories still felt a bit like a dream, like he was a human wearing an ill-fitting bear suit in the middle of a forest.

He began watching his diaries, thoroughly repulsed by the arrogant, cold-hearted terror he had been before he kidnapped Holly. A new, fresh wave of guilt consumed him as the memory of her abduction came crashing back. "Nuh-uh," his brain told him gleefully in Foaly's voice. "Don't want all those nasty fours coming back again." Artemis snorted. But in a way, he was slightly thrilled, because it was the first memory that felt very real to him. After that, everything else slotted into place, as he took the last of the purple pills he felt like all his memories were his own again.

Artemis washed his face, letting the waterfall showerhead cleanse the sweat from his body. He tried to block out a feeling he'd been having more and more lately, but it wouldn't die down. Everything wasn't entirely right with Holly. Everything certainly seemed alright, because there was absolutely nothing wrong with their friendship. If anything, it had grown much stronger over the past eighteen months he had been back. But Artemis wished to the dear elfin gods that Holly hadn't dismissed his—or Orion's, he should say—feelings under the Atlantis Complex. It wasn't Orion trying to emerge again, Artemis knew. As much as Orion was a fool, Artemis knew he spoke the truth for both of them. With every passing day, a burden, something like regret, grew heavier in his heart.

He just wanted Holly to know how he felt. A drop of water grazed his lips, and the sensation of their phantom kiss stole across him. He raised a pale hand to his mouth.

"Enough," he murmured to himself, stepping out of the shower. He remembered the hard-won respect they had built their deep and complex friendship on. He couldn't jeopardize it. Not for the sake of his hormones. They seemed to be trying to compensate too, for not having put him through puberty once before.

**Haven City, Now**

At the same moment, the elf that was on Artemis's mind was sitting in the corner of a coffee shop with the little demon warlock, N˚1. He was perched brightly on an orange booth, his stumpy legs swinging.

Holly's eyes crinkled. "Is the booth giving you a headache?"

N˚1 shook his head vigorously. "It only gives me a headache if I am wearing something orange. And also if I am running into the arms of human hitmen."

Holly laughed, "Luckily for you, you're probably much more dangerous to them now than they are to you."

The little demon nodded his head reluctantly. "I guess." In an unexpected turn of subjects, he asked, "How is your love life, Holly?"

Holly narrowed her eyes at the little demon. "Did Foaly put you up to this?" Now that Foaly had a small herd of little centaurs galloping around his and Caballine's hooves, Foaly was increasingly trying to assume the role of matchmaker in Holly's life, despite her vehement objections. A dozen times a day, he'd sneak in a site for speed dating, or virtual networks and even phone numbers of some attractive elves in the LEP. Holly was on the verge of rescinding her offer to buy him a gallon of real carrot juice for making Artemis's chrysalis.

"No," N˚1 said simply. "I can tell you were thinking about it."

"I was?" Holly asked, surprised.

"It's an aura thing. Anyways, if you don't want to talk about it, we don't have to." N˚1 innocently slurped his sim-espresso, something he loved more than almost anything, including chocolate. "How has Artemis been?"

Holly took no notice of how closely N˚1 paired these two subjects, and opened her mouth to respond, when an incoming call from Commander Kelp interrupted her.

"It's about Artemis Fowl. Get back to the command station."


End file.
